


The Legend of Chris

by defenestrat0r



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Fae & Fairies, Fantasy, Gen, Magic, One Shot, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 15:17:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20996954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defenestrat0r/pseuds/defenestrat0r
Summary: There are many different types of evil. Chris is a wandering adventurer that specializes in one particular strain. A Fae-Hunter, he wanders the lands in search of these evil beings so that he may rid the world of them. This is the story of one such instance, except it does not go as per routine.





	1. Chapter 1

Hypnotic were the sonorous melodies that wafted through the air, sweetly caressing every ear and mind that it brushed past. It felt delicate and fragile, as if it were on the verge of fracture; almost saccharine to the ear, like the crescendo of a wind-chime in reverberation. The ballad weaved itself through the catacombs, echoing aimlessly off the walls worn with age. The song dipped and rose, filling the crevices of the underground with haunting tones. It was in no mortal tongue, but it mattered not to those listening. To the casual audience it was riveting, enrapturing. To the casual audience, it was the last thing they ever heard.

_ ‘The only audience here besides myself are corpses, and their souls.’ _

The thought was depressing. But such was the nature of truth, as was the true meaning of the song that clung to the very essence of the many souls that had wandered into this wretched space. The corpses of those that had come before him were wrapped in vines, their nutrients and essences being returned to the earth that had borne them. They were fools, unwary of the horrors that lay beyond the moss-ridden walls of this lair beneath the dirt. Chris, however, knew precisely what he had gotten into.

It was not difficult to track the song to its source. The melody beckoned him towards it. It wanted him to find it. His ears led him to a doorway draped in vines that opened out to the bottom of a spiraling stairwell. The stairs, worn and cracked with age, had the signs of abandonment and nature’s reclaim all over it. Roots broke through the tiles, moss and vines grew over the curved walls; but the stairs remained firm enough to trudge up. 

A morbid chuckle escaped his lips as he surveyed his surroundings after emerging from the stairwell, finding himself atop the waterfall he had spied in the distance earlier. After all the effort he had gone through coming underground, it was ironic that his quest was coming to an end. Still, it was not as if the long and arduous journey had been for nought. The view was to die for.

Around him were the ruins of what was perhaps a watchtower or a minor castle. A wide, circular, stone-tiled yard was what he was currently at the very center of, with broken parts of what looked like battlements littered at the edges of the circle. Grass poked out from between the stone tiles, and the light green of moss glittered over the stones under the glow of the full moon above. 

It would’ve been much less ominous if the moon were casting its regular silver luminescence on the landscape. Instead, the silver orb in the sky leaked crimson, bathing the surroundings in scarlet. It didn’t bother the tired adventurer, though. He barely spared the blood moon a glance before continuing to inspect his surroundings. 

_ ‘It must’ve been a sight to behold in its prime’, _Chris mused as he extinguished the torch he’d been carrying. Out in the open air like this, under the illumination of the moon, he wasn’t going to need it. 

The excited gurgles of the waterfall nearby did nothing to drown out the bewitching melody. It seemed to have grown in vigor and volume, radiating its sound omnidirectionally as he tried to pinpoint the source. It was intoxicating now, coaxing him to give in and let it fill him. He had prepared for this. 

Reaching into his pack, Chris fished out a cask. Popping the cork that sealed it, he promptly dunked its contents into his open maw. Red liquid sloshed across his beard and dripped down his chin, staining the olive tunic beneath his iron chest-plate. Within the cask was no magical potion or alchemical brew, but the finest wine in the twelfth kingdom (that he could buy with the last of his gold). 

The effect was almost immediate. While his vision blurred, the haunting symphony was reduced to a dull throb in the back of his head. 

“I’ve rendered your tunes useless, witch. You have no– _ hic _– hold over me.” His voice slurred as he made his loud announcement, the wine taking its toll on his speech.

“So it would seem, Traveler.”

The voice was deeper and much more pointed, but there was no mistaking the haunting undercurrent and the accent that mirrored the otherworldly tongue. This was the voice of the songstress that had led him here.

* * *

Swift as a bolt of lightning, the now-drunken traveler swiveled on his feet to face in the direction of the voice. Despite his condition, he moved with a nimbleness and speed that betrayed his lax stature. His hand had already moved to his hip, hovering over his broadsword's hilt as he steadied himself. 

The rust red of the moon complimented the chartreuse glow that emanated from every inch of the woman that had materialized a few feet behind him. Her features were difficult to make out directly, as her radiance was akin to looking directly into the flames of a torch. Squinting and letting his eyes wander instead of concentrating on a specific point, Chris managed to let his irides grow accustomed to her luminosity so that he could scope her properly.

She had a crown of antlers that extrapolated from the top of her head, shining a vibrant, dark green. Adorning her shoulders was a coat that resembled the ferns surrounding their location, bushy leaves sticking out oddly yet somehow blending in with the rest of her attire. The coat reached all the way down to her feet, spilling out onto the floor beneath. What she wore under the coat, he could not very well see, but it was form-fitting and drew attention to her toned figure. Eyes that held an empty void within them stared ahead, lifelessly. The crunch of the fresh grass under her bare feet was audible as she took a step towards him.

All of his senses screamed at him to take a simultaneous step back. Chris stood his ground.

“It is a cold and dark night for a lone man to be traveling these woods. ‘Tis not safe for mortalkind out here, I’ve heard.” She grinned. There were no teeth, just an empty void.

“Neither the dark, nor the cold has ever bothered me. They are old friends.” While they conversed, Chris was analyzing the situation. She hadn’t come into striking distance yet, but there were still all manners of things that could happen from range. He could not afford to let his guard down.

“If you continue down the path of darkness and cold, shadow and blood will be all you know~” There was playfulness in her voice as she took another step, humming along as she spoke as if singing a song. Playfulness wasn’t the only thing that Chris noticed, however. Malicious intent laced the words, dread striking his core as the melody brushed past his ear. A shiver traveled down his spine as she edged closer.

Chris stood his ground.

“Shadow and blood _ are _ all I know. But tonight, that ends. Tonight, I right the wrong that brought me to this point.” His knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on his sword-hilt. Steely determination crept onto his face as he set his jaw, locking eyes with the woman that continued to saunter towards him. She stared right back with those soulless, empty eyes.

“All that you will have tonight is death, traveler.” 

Only the length of a broadsword separated the two now. It may seem like an odd unit of measurement, but in his experience, it was often quite useful.

“I do not fear that end, Fae.

“For what is death, but merely a lack of ale?” Cracking his own grin, Chris drew his blade and spun to his right, using the singular motion of unsheathing to carve a deadly slashing arc aimed at his opponent. Coming full circle, he halted the spinning motion and steadied himself once more, facing her with his sword held to his side in a ready stance.

Turning her head towards him, the woman’s face finally contorted to reveal emotion. It was an expression of amusement. She allowed herself a moment to laugh, her joyous chortles resonating across the still night air. It was perhaps the most pleasant thing he’d heard.

“Fool, you are! No mortal weapon can even hope to scratch me~”

Her face fell, however, as she noticed the grin still plastered on Chris’s face. A quick inspection revealed a gash across her abdomen where he’d swung, which caused a veritable storm of emotions to flit across her face. Finally settling on rage, she leveled her gaze at the traveler who she now considered a threat. For a moment, Chris thought he saw sparks of feeling in those eyes that challenged the night sky in darkness.

“Whoever said anything about a mortal weapon?” A slight wave of the blade he held made it to hum as it cut through the air. The red from the above seemed to seep into the steel of the broadsword, giving it a crimson sheen as the moonlight glanced off it. It was quite clear now that this was no regular sword.

Wiping her hand across the gash, she inspected the lavender blood that had seeped out from the wound. A crazed smile alit her face as she pointed right at her assailant.

“There is no escape for you, traveler. 

“Under this blood moon, you shall die.” Though her voice was steady, there was a torrent of giddiness beneath it. She was not threatening him anymore. It was a promise.

“Escape?” It was Chris’s turn to laugh.

“I did not come here by chance, and I do not intend to leave before ending your tyranny.” With a flamboyant twirl of his sword, he took a step forward to close the gap between them. 

“Know that this is your last dance, Fae.

“And use what little time you have left to pray.”

Snapping her left hand forward, the Fae summoned forth her own weapon : a glowing chartreuse staff that materialized in a flurry of sparks. 

“To pray implies that there must be a creature or being that is greater than I~”

Twirling her weapon with inhuman speed, she stepped forward to cross her staff with Chris’s sword, meeting him in stride. They were now at a standstill at the very center of the circle, weapons locked and standing just a foot apart from each other. She could hear Chris’s heart beating with an ever-increasing frequency, and he could feel the coolness of her breath on his skin as they stared each other down.

“Still... if it is dance you wish, a dance I will provide.” 

There was an excitement in her voice that hadn’t been there previously.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

“Better make it a good one, then.” He spoke with far more bravery than he felt, even going so far as to wink at her before disengaging and leaping backwards to create some space between them. Now with a bit of breathing room, Chris brought his free hand down to grip his sword with both hands, shifting his stance to better accommodate the two-handed hold. Sliding one foot back, he lifted the sword high to come level with his head, twisting it at a slight angle with the tip pointing right at his opponent’s throat. Chris’s eyes reflected the crimson that glinted off of his blade as he focused on his opponent. 

“You move swiftly, traveler.” The compliment seemed genuine, but the downright evil smile she possessed said otherwise. Chris made the mistake of blinking as a speck of dust flew into his eye. When he opened his eyes in the next second, she had disappeared. 

The shock of losing track of his opponent came first. The pain of impact followed promptly, as Chris noticed the end of the staff that had buried itself in his abdomen. She’d crossed the gap he’d created between them in the blink of an eye.

Standing on her toes to reach up to his ear, the Fae whispered, “Not swift enough, I’m afraid~” 

Her smile grew wider as the swordsman coughed up blood.

Now recovering from the initial shock, Chris swung his sword in a downwards arc towards the woman who’d made the mistake of getting up this close to him. The swing ended in a clang as steel met rock. She was no longer there.

Gritting his teeth, he pulled his sword up and stepped into another ready stance, this time with the blade being held near his hips with the tip pointed downwards. While this type of stance left him open to a lot more attacks, it also enabled for quick counters and responses. Judging by the speed of his opponent, he deemed this a much more suitable approach than his earlier stance. 

Once in guard, his eyes swept the perimeter to try and find his opponent once more. Seeing the opponent coming would greatly aid in the fight. Unfortunately, it seemed that she had no intention of giving him that advantage.

“Did you really believe that an effective weapon was all it would take to defeat me?” Her voice radiated all around him. She was everywhere, but at the same time, nowhere. 

A gust of wind billowing behind him caused Chris to spin around to face it in anticipation. Nothing awaited him in that direction.

“I had such high hopes… It’s really too bad how you turned out to be all talk.” This time, he was sure the voice was coming from near the waterfall. He made no attempt to show that he knew of her location, however, and instead slowly edged towards it, still facing the direction where the wind had startled him.

“You’re nothing but a disappointment.” Too late, Chris realized that it was a ruse. The staff came for his face, this time from the direction opposite to where he thought she was. If not for his speed in reaction, he was sure that hit would have knocked him out. As it came for him, he’d brought his sword up to parry it, but the force of the staff brought the blunt end of his own sword smashing into his face. While it didn’t cut him, it did knock one of his teeth loose.

Chris did not stop to mull over his mistake. Blocking out the pain, he pushed the staff out the way using his sword and continued the motion to deftly swing at the Fae’s legs.

Once again, a metallic clang rang out as she managed to slip through his attack.

The sound of his infuriated growl was drowned out by her ubiquitous laugh. As before, it was resonating from all around him, making him unable to pinpoint her location. She was mocking him now.

“What seems to be the matter, traveler? Where did all that bravado from earlier go?”

Maintaining his silence, he raised his sword once again from the ground. With his eyes darting around the area, Chris shuffled towards the opposite edge of the circle, swiveling every few seconds to make sure he was not caught off-guard. The stance remained the same, having served him well in the previous encounter. It had allowed him to counter fast enough to stop her attack from hitting with full force. No other stance would let him move as quick. 

Turning on his feet to face away from his target destination, so that he could see if he was being followed, he continued backing up to the edge of their arena. However, as he neared the spot, he hit something solid that halted his backwards movement. There was a silky hardness behind the velvety leaves that caressed his back, but it felt too soft to be a tree trunk. 

“Trying to run away, brave one?”

Chris had backed right into his opponent. He was sure she wasn’t there before he’d turned his back to that area, but there was no denying the voice that whispered in his ear from behind him. She did not give him time to react before her staff horizontally acquainted itself with his neck. There was light pressure on his throat, slowly increasing as she pulled him closer to her.

“Tsk, Tsk. I expected you to last longer~”

She may have appeared lithe, but her figure betrayed nothing of the monstrous strength that he was now struggling to escape. Every breath grew laborious, and his vision began to blur as she held him with an ever-tightening hold. His sword-hand moved of its own accord, but instead of trying to strike the one choking him from behind, it swung the crimson blade down at the stone floor, creating another audible clang.

“Growing delirious? I’m behind you, you fool.” An amused chuckle rang out from behind him. 

Chris’s chuckle joined hers.

The staff chafed his throat as it pulled back tighter, the Fae hissing in his ear as she heard him laugh. “What are you laughing about?”

Speech was difficult when in a chokehold, but he persevered. “Just– an old joke– I remembered.”

His thumb reached down to the sword’s cross-guard, the middle of which held a ruby, and pushed it. It reacted by immediately glowing bright crimson, casting long shadows behind them as the light spread out from the stone. 

Twin streaks of crimson light snaked out from the edges of the circle they were fighting in, meeting at the center of their arena. Their origin points glowed brighter than the streaks in the ground, shooting light into the night sky like a beacon. The places where Chris’s blade had sliced at the ground were the origin points of the streaks, now the source of a trio of beacons that raced into the air. The scarlet beacons on either side bent towards the straight one at the centre, curving through the air until all three met at a point and created an arch above them. In a brilliant explosion of red, the light spilled out like a translucent curtain, forming a dome around the circle they’d been fighting in. 

Chris felt the staff relax slightly as the Fae observed the changes in their environment, distracted by the light show that he’d summoned. He wasn’t one to waste opportunities. He let go of his weapon, allowing it to slump to the ground as he planted his feet and reached backwards to lay hands on his captor. With a firm hold on her, he swung forward with all his might, attempting to hurl the Fae away from him.

The previously untouchable opponent was startled as she was caught and thrown through the air. Rolling to a stop, she quickly spun her staff around in a defensive stance before glaring in Chris’s direction. 

“What did you _ do _?”

The traveler spat out the dislodged tooth as he bent down to pick his weapon up from where he’d dropped it. Twirling it once, he slid one foot forward and held one back. Returning to a two-handed hold, the sword was brought next to his hip once more, angled upwards this time. His gaze focused on his opponent once again.

Her radiance had dimmed considerably, and the antler crown she wore had diminished in size and grandeur. He flashed her a grin with his bloody mouth, his teeth now missing a unit. His trick had worked.

“I evened the odds.”

The Fae scowled at his smug expression. She knew what he’d done as soon as he was able to hold her long enough to throw her.

“Maybe now you’ll give me a fair fight~” As he stared her down once more, Chris noticed that his heart had stopped beating rapidly. Inhaling deeply, he realized he was calm. For the first time since he’d set eyes on her, he wasn’t afraid.

For the first time since the fight began… he had a chance. 

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

The red dome that encircled the two combatants vibrated with a magical energy, soft humming emanating from the light that it was composed of. Crimson moonlight filtered through as their celestial spectator watched on from the heavens. The waterfall was the only entity that disturbed the tense silence that had settled around the ruins, as the very air held its breath in anticipation. 

The Fae’s expression held murderous intent as she kept her gaze trained on the man that had stripped her of her abilities. Her gaze was met by his, although his expression was significantly different. A smug, bloody grin adorned his face. He was enjoying this turn in the tide of battle. It was, after all, in his favor.

“I made you a promise, traveler. I fully intend to keep it.” Growling in an almost feral manner, she rushed forward to begin her assault.

Chris stood his ground as his grip tightened around the hilt of his sword. Gone was the inhuman speed and movement, but that did not mean he was going to let his guard down. She was still an opponent, and he’d give her the same level of respect he’d give any of his opponents.

"You know what they say about promises…"

Her first blow was quite straightforward, and one he saw coming. He was quick with the counter, parrying the downward strike in an upwards arc and then using the momentum to swivel his sword towards her head. She was no slacker, he soon found, as his attack was deftly thrust away with a swift rotation of her staff.

Shuffling back, he created some distance between them so as to get a moment to recollect, but she was relentless. Closing the gap, the Fae assailed him with a flurry of expertly aimed blows. But without her powers buffing her speed, the attacks fell to the wayside as he managed to parry and duck out of the way of them all. 

They matched blow for blow, sparks erupting with every meeting of blade and staff. Despite the cold of the night, both Chris and the Fae felt hot and heavy, the effort of combat soon taking its toll on them. His tunic was stained with blood, wine and sweat, and her body glistened as the red moonlight bounced off of the sweat that dripped down her form. Breathing heavily, they crossed weapons for what looked to be the last time that night, and stood locked in position.

“Before I end you… I wish to know your name. So that I may remember the wanderer that pushed me so far.” Still panting, a smile bloomed on her face.

Returning the exhausted smile, Chris replied, “Only if you tell me yours first.” 

“I’ve not used it in so long, I fear I’ve forgotten it. Perhaps when I am at death’s door, and my life flashes by, I shall remember~” She winked suggestively.

At that, Chris chuckled. “So be it.”

With a quickness that was unexpected from one as tired as he seemed, the swordsman used his leg to sweep her feet out from under her. Distracted and lacking energy, she fell, losing her weapon in the process.

As her staff clattered to the ground and her body hit the floor, she closed her eyes and an expression of relief washed over her face. Chris leveled his sword at her throat, observing the serene smile she possessed as she took in large gulps of air. 

An image of times that had long passed rose from the depths of the triumphant traveler’s mind, with the roles reversed and his elder sister standing over him with a wooden sword in quite the same fashion as he stood now. The smile that the Fae had was quite nostalgic. The memories stung, much like the tear that mixed with the sweat and blood on his face.

“You remind me of my brother, traveler.”

Her black eyes opened to face him, her entire posture now relaxed and resigned. She’d accepted her loss, and the consequences that it entailed. 

“My name… It was Nikam.” 

“And I am Chris.” 

“Chris… Such a dull name. I shall cherish it, nonetheless. Thank you, Chris.”

“You shall be remembered, Nikam.” He gulped down his reservations and took a deep breath. This was the part he dreaded. But it had to be done.

The blade cut through his sister’s flesh with little resistance, lopping off her head with ease. She would suffer no more, and the skilled beheading meant that she would feel no pain. It had to be done.

As the dome of crimson flickered and faded, the sky grew dark and clouds blocked out the red glare of the moon. The heavens rumbled and burst, showering the earth with the gift of water. The rain washed away the blood. The rain washed away the sweat. The rain washed away the tears.

It had to be done.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> This entire thing was inspired from a poetry rap battle that me and by good friend had. It was a really fun exercise to turn that into a whole written work and I hope people enjoyed reading this little one shot. If you've got any suggestions regarding literally anything about this, then I'd love to hear them so I can tweak and improve on it! 
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


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